


Within Our Monochrome Cage

by HoneyButterYum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Gamma/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Amnesia, Auras, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Demon AU, Demon!Junkrat, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Exorcist!Mako, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Partial Blindness, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Voice Kink, almost forgot, also slightly omegaverse, i guess?, if there's any reason to read this fic that's it, it had to happen at some point, junkrat has a dinosaur foot im not joking, lots of auras, lots of blood guys, not quite the priest/demon au but kinda close, some angels show up too so that's fun, that is, that's right that does mean i rewrote the rules of omegaverse, there's a thin line that i almost cross with each chapter i post, will add more tags when they're relevant and when i remember lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyButterYum/pseuds/HoneyButterYum
Summary: Mako is a man of secrets, and Junkrat is a demon who knows every single one.





	1. Violet

**Author's Note:**

> hi I can't finish anything because I love starting new things anyway here's a new thing I hope u all like it
> 
> This isn't beta read, only checked for grammatical errors, so sorry in advance if I missed something lol

Angels existed, and they were incompetent. Imperfect. No more different than the humans they loved to protect. In personality, that is.

Mako Rutledge outstretched his arm and poured the neon purple contents of a small vial onto the summoning circle below. As the thick liquid spread out across the ancient red symbols, it bubbled, fizzed, and hissed on contact with the paint. At first the bubbles were small, almost like the purple liquid had become carbonated. But moments later the bubbles grew in size, popping and spewing steam that dissipated toward the ceiling. The liquid coated the whole area of the summoning circle, but it didn’t block out the bright glow of the ground opening up to accept Mako’s offering.

Angel blood was difficult to find, and even more difficult to resist. Under the summoning circle, a nose poked through the surface of the blood, then a mouth with four razor-sharp fangs. The creature’s tongue lapped up as much of the blood it could, soon having to emerge further from the circle to drink its fill.

With a scrawny, gangling body that twitched and shuddered more each second it lapped up angel’s blood, the demon Mako summoned was far from what he’d expected. First, there were the parts Mako was more…used to, one could say. Long, curved black horns emerged from the demon’s forehead, curling up toward the top of his skull coated with short, filthy blond hair. His pitch-black bat wings seemed too small for his height as they fluttered with his twitchy movements, and he sat straight on the ground as he brought a hand to his mouth and slurped up excess blood from his fingers.

As his piercing gold gaze slid to Mako, the man started to regret doing this in an abandoned church.

This demon’s sclera was as black as his wings and horns, it a feature Mako was less familiar with demons having. The demon’s glowing eyes narrowed as his expression warped from excitement to utter wrath.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me, mate.” The demon’s voice sounded shrill, grainy, and Mako hated it. Then, for a moment, it seemed as though the demon’s mood shifted. He let out a sharp giggle that bubbled up from his throat, and Mako thought of the laughter of hyenas as the demon lifted his hands to his head, his fingers grasping clumps of his already-thin hair. “This is a fuckin’ joke, right, mate? You’re pullin’ me leg?”

Mako frowned and decided to ignore him. “Jamison Fawkes, I have summoned you here to—”

The demon let out a screech and clawed at the wood floor with his hands, his right much more effective at destroying the old wood. He raised his right arm and pointed his taloned fingers at Mako. The arm up to above his elbow didn’t seem to be made of flesh, but of burned, crisp ashes. “Fuck right off! Ya even _try_ sayin’ that name again, I’ll kill ya! An’ I’ll kill ya if you don’t send me back to hell, either! C’mon, c’mon!”

Now this was strange. Mako stepped back and withdrew his dagger from the sheath at his hip. The demon had broken the summoning circle like it hadn’t even been painted into the wood in the first place. Even so, Mako would be lying if he said he didn’t want a challenge.

“You have something I need, demon,” Mako spat. He adjusted his grip on his dagger and pointed the tip of the blade at the demon. “I hear you know the location of a priceless treasure.”

At that, the demon’s expression warped into shock, then panic. He backed off and gave a nervous grin, the opposite of what Mako had thought he’d do. Unfortunate, but perhaps it was better this way.

“Treasure this, treasure that,” the demon muttered, gaze never lingering on one thing for too long. “Can’t a guy get a rest?” He let out a shrill laugh that bubbled up from his throat. “Look, mate, if I knew the location of some treasure, I wouldn’t spend me days down in ‘ell, eh?”

That was nothing but suspicious. But it wasn’t as if Mako came this far without having done some research. For now, he stayed silent and watched as the demon twitched and trembled under his gaze.

“Who’s askin’ this time, eh?” The demon glanced in Mako’s direction before looking back at the floor, the walls, the ceiling. “Some suit again? ‘Aving some ol’ bloke summon a demon for ‘em, huh?”

“Just me.” Mako stepped forward, and the demon stepped back. For some reason, Mako’s answer riled up the demon even more.

“Well, ain’t that a surprise!” The demon twitched and trembled, his wings lifting a few inches away from his back. “Listen, mate, I know jus’ about as much as you do. Now why don’t we just leave this all behind us, eh? You can get that portal up an’ runnin’, an’—” Mako saw the demon shift away with each word, saw his wings open up, lift, tense—

Mako threw the dagger toward the demon just as he tried to take off, the blade piercing through the membrane of the demon’s left wing. The demon shrieked as the force of the throw knocked him back and onto the seat of one of the nearby pews. His fingers and talons fumbled to remove the dagger, and he seemed to shrink as Mako drew closer.

Palms speckled with blood, the demon held them up as Mako wrapped his fingers around the demon’s throat and held him down against the pew. “Hey hey hey—!” Again the demon spoke, shrill and jittery. “C-c’mon, big guy, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! I mean, look at ya! You’re sure, uh, formidable-lookin’!” Why did he sound so unsure?

“Where is it?” Mako tightened his grip, felt the demon’s throat constrict under his fingers.

“L-like I said, mate,” the demon began, but then Mako felt something sharp prick the skin of his stomach, and the demon’s nervous grin grew wider with satisfaction.

Mako glanced down and, instead of a human foot pressed into his stomach, he saw ashy black claws reminiscent of a raptorial dinosaur. Huge hooked toe claw and all.

The large toe claw tapped against the tear it made in Mako’s gut, blood staining black shirt darker. “Now here’s a problem,” the demon said, terror gone from his voice. “Would hate t’ waste all your blood, mate, but I’m sure the way your guts spill will be worth the loss.”

It could’ve been a stalemate if Mako had his dagger against the demon’s throat instead of his hand. That hooked claw could rip him open faster than he could strangle the demon to unconsciousness.

“Somethin’ wrong, mate?” The demon smirked and let out a bubbly giggle. He patted Mako’s hand, then began to try and tug the fingers away from his throat. “We can’t stay ‘ere all day. No need t’ be so indecisive! ‘S an easy choice: back away, or die.”

Mako grit his teeth. He needed this bastard’s treasure. His grip tightened around the demon’s throat once more while his other hand wrenched the demon’s monstrous leg away from his stomach. Mako pulled the demon up and hissed in his face, “I didn’t come this far to not get an answer, demon.”

But something seemed…off. The demon’s eyes—wide, shocked, full of disbelief?—stared at Mako’s face, and Mako shook him to bring him out of his thoughts. Perhaps he’d been getting less oxygen than Mako thought.

“Hey! Answer me!” Mako shook the demon once more. Now this was annoying.

Still, the demon stayed unfazed. He murmured something under his breath, then placed his hands on Mako’s wrist and whispered at a volume Mako could hear, “Roadhog?”

Mako shoved the demon away, his blood boiling in a way he’d never felt in a long, long time. “How do you know that name?”

The demon coughed and hissed as he sat up from the pew and pulled Mako’s dagger out of his wing. Thin trails of blood fell from the wound, but the demon didn’t seem to care as much about that now. “Roadie! Fuck, I didn’t think I’d see ya ever again!” He fumbled for something in a bag tied with a chain around his waist, but Mako didn’t care. How could he care?

‘Roadhog’ was a name he destroyed, an identity that never quite left. The demon pulled out something from his bag and held it out to Mako.

A mask. _His_ mask.

He’d burned that mask when he left the name Roadhog behind.

Yet here it was, a little worse for wear, but in a demon’s hand nonetheless. The mask’s glass eyes glinted back at Mako from the low candlelight and flickering light bulbs. It reminded Mako of blood, of terror, of everything this demon was and everything he could be.

Mako curled his hands into fists and steeled his voice, letting every fiber of wrath and hate leak into his words. “Where did you get that?”

The demon shivered and pulled the mask back, holding it as though he were cradling a baby. “‘S not exactly yours, ya drongo. Well— It _is_ yours, but not _yours_. Er, wait, now you’re gettin’ me all mixed up—” Mako took a heavy step forward, and the demon yelped. “Hey hey! Lemme finish, mate! I ain’t exactly rehearsed for our reunion!”

Reunion? What the fuck did that mean?

“ _So,_ as I was sayin’.” The demon let out a huff and scowled up at Mako. “I ain’t sure how you’re memories are supposed t’ work for all this, but lessee….” He stared into space for a moment, his bushy brow furrowed in thought. “So, ya died for the first time. But I was alive then, right? An’ so you’re born again an’ all, but I still ‘aven’t died ‘cause I’m stuck in ‘ell.”

Mako lifted his hand to his face and shook his head. “You’re making no fucking sense.” Why didn’t he strangle the demon to death when he had the chance?

“I knew ya when I was human,” the demon said around a grumble. “One hundred years ago, give or take. Can’t remember much now ‘cause of me shit brain, but I knew ya, Roadie.” A pause. “What’s your name, anyways?” He tapped a clawed finger against his temple. “I’m sure ya told me at some point. Sure it started with an ‘m’.... Matthew? Mark? Marco? Msteve?”

Mako’s head spun with the information the damned demon gave him, so poorly explained that it made no sense at all. At least he was more or less friendly now, so he could be more inclined to tell Mako about his treasure. Mako didn’t want to care about all the extra shit this late at night.

He growled and glared at the demon. “It’s Mako.” Though annoying, he didn’t see any harm in telling the demon his name. If anything, maybe it would get him to stop calling Mako by that disgusting pet name.

The demon slapped his palm against his forehead. “Oh, right! How could I forget, eh? Ya sure have always been an upstanding sort of bloke!” He let out a giggle and twirled one of his talons around a strap on Mako’s mask. “Honestly, it’s weird t’ see ya after so long. I can’t tell if I’m ‘appy or sad ya don’t recognize me!” The demon sighed before sitting up straight and giving Mako a big grin. “Anyways, th’ name’s Junkrat!” With a cackle, he leaned back against the pew and tilted his head back toward the ceiling. “Well, that treasure— What was it? You’d get twent—uh, ten percent of it?”

For some reason, Mako felt like he’d done this before. An answer spilled from his lips before he even thought about it. “Fifty.”

“What?”

“Fifty perfect.” Mako shook off the déjà vu. It had to be him overthinking about Junkrat’s idiotic story.

“Fifty?” Junkrat wolf-whistled and hopped up from the pew. “You drive a hard bargain, mate. Twenty-five?” He stepped toward Mako and grinned, hopeful. “Twenty-eight?”

Mako grit his teeth and gave Junkrat a hard glare. He did _not_ come all this way for a measly twenty-eight percent.

Junkrat let out a cackle that bubbled up from his throat. “Alright! Fifty perfect, and that’s me final offer!” He beat his wings to give him the extra lift to stand at Mako’s side and winced in the aftermath of moving his injured wing. “Exactly as we rehearsed, right Roadie? Perfect execution! The drama, the creativity!” Yet again, his hyena-like laugh echoed in the empty church. “Ah, those were the good ol’ days, mate.”

Mako had stopped listening after he’d made certain Junkrat had agreed on his deal. At least he'd finally gotten somewhere with that damned treasure. While Junkrat’s voice faded out into background noise, Mako gathered his things into a bag and started to leave the church, Junkrat following close behind.

Under the weak light of the moon, Mako pulled open one of the rusty doors of the church, then turned to the demon beside him. Junkrat’s brow furrowed at the sudden stop, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness.

Mako scoffed and threw his jacket over Junkrat’s shoulders. As he walked ahead of the demon, Mako felt a sense of dread embed itself into his gut like deep violet monkshood flowers spreading their roots into soil.

After all, nothing was more dangerous than letting a demon linger in his shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I never even thought about putting flower language in this until I found myself writing it in so whoops my bad


	2. Azure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako really should’ve researched more before he summoned this thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on a role guys
> 
> Also I want to apologize in advance for so much exposition lmao, but other than that I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to my friend who beta’d this for me, I love u bro

Behind the sound of tires on gravel and the wind rushing past his ears, Mako heard crying. Soft, muffled, but, well, Junkrat sure sucked at keeping his mouth shut.

Mako tried to ignore the sound that came from the back of his truck, too tired to think about all the questions Junkrat brought up and didn’t bother to answer. Besides, what good was it to trust a demon?

No matter the answer or opinion, Mako knew bitter regret because of trust. Even though that demon pretended to know him, pretended to be hurt by his apparent ‘lost memories’, Mako only needed Junkrat for the location of the treasure. Nothing more.

Mako glanced into his rear-view mirror to check on Junkrat, but something icy cold wedged its way into his stomach when he saw his trunk bare of the demon.

“Christ, no need t’ freak out so much.” Mako flinched in his seat as Junkrat leaned back in the passenger seat and gazed out of the front window. “Got bored by meself. I’ve been by meself enough, right? Aha.” He picked off some old flakes of ash from his monstrous arm.

“Don’t just fucking climb through the window,” Mako grumbled, then gulped.

On that barren road in the middle of the night, Mako’s damned curiosity got the better of him.

“Why do you think I am…who you say I am?”

Junkrat turned toward Mako with wide eyes, then flicked his gaze to his lap. “Y’look the same,” he began. “I dunno much about reincarnation, but….” Junkrat looked back up at Mako with a grin. “Sometimes things from before ‘appen again in the next life. I never read much about that, but—“

“Read?” Mako furrowed his brow and tried to keep his attention on the road.

“Ah, yeah mate, ‘ell’s got a _huge_ library. Boring stuff like history an’ shit. All those true stories. Other demons try t’ write the good stuff but we’ve got some pissy librarians. Make me wanna run me own bookshop thing, y’know?”

Mako regret asking in the first place. “Do I just look similar to that person?”

Junkrat shook his head. “Nah, mate. ‘S all fuzzy, but your voice, ‘s the same, too. Ya never did talk much. An’ I’m sure ya still ‘ave that pig tattoo!” He grinned and shifted in his seat to lean forward onto the dashboard, an uncomfortable position, but why would Mako question what was comfortable for the demon?

Mako gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles. “Say I believe you. How would you know I’m that same person? How do you know you’re not making a mistake?”

“ _‘Cause,_ Mako.” Junkrat caught Mako’s gaze, the demon’s eyes holding a deep melancholy, dark like honey. “You were the one that told me I’d be a fuckin’ idiot if I mistook ya for someone else.”

Mako let out a scoff and pushed a little harder on the pedal as Junkrat cackled beside him. “Just tell me where this damned treasure is.”

“Alright, Alright.” Junkrat’s laughter quieted down as he leaned back in his seat. “We need t’ stop someplace first. Ya got a map?”

Mako took a hand off the wheel to grab the phone in his pocket, but hesitated.

Junkrat let out a groan and rolled his eyes. “I ain’t gonna get us lost, mate. If that’s what you were thinkin’.”

That didn’t settle his doubts at all, but Mako unlocked his phone and handed it to the demon nonetheless. “Don’t break it.”

“Right, right, gotcha, mate.” Junkrat let out a hum of awe as he took the phone in his hands and examined it, then tapped through the screen with his human hand.

For some reason, Junkrat being technically capable wasn’t what Mako expected. The usual demons seemed like they couldn’t know about the modern world, couldn’t comprehend a life without chaos and destruction. But, according to Junkrat, he'd only been a demon for one hundred years. Phones had been around for much longer than that, so—

God, Mako said he wouldn’t think about this. All this exposition made his head throb with the beginning of a migraine.

“Ohoho, fuck!” Junkrat’s screechy voice snapped Mako out of his thoughts. “I know where we are! Turn left ‘ere!”

Mako looked ahead at the road that went straight for miles, then back to Junkrat. “We’re following the roads.”

“But it’ll be so much faster!” Junkrat groaned, pouting as he kept looking through Mako’s phone. Then Mako heard a muffled tapping against the floor of his truck.

“Hey,” he said, shoving Junkrat’s shoulder. “Don’t break my truck, either.”

With another exasperated groan, Junkrat slumped down in his seat, his monstrous leg rising from tapping a hole in Mako’s floor to rest on the dashboard. “But _Mako,_ ‘m bored!”

Babysitting was not something Mako expected to be doing while searching for a demon’s treasure. Sometimes life likes to punch you in the face like that.

“Get back in the trunk for all I care.”

Junkrat straightened up in his seat and leaned over the armrest, a sly grin on his face. “Hey, how long have ya been dealin’ with demons, Roadie?”

Mako grit his teeth and kept his eyes on the barren road. “...Not long.”

“Ah! That’s a surprise!” Junkrat placed his flesh hand on Mako’s upper arm. Mako resisted the urge to sock him in the jaw. “That treasure must be pretty important if you’d go to a demon to find it.”

Did Junkrat not even know what his own treasure was? This was too fucking suspicious. Mako furrowed his brow and shoved Junkrat off him. “Tell me more about the treasure.”

Junkrat giggled, high-pitched and nervous. The dread Mako had in his gut grew ten times larger and snaked up his throat. “I’m not too sure meself, mate,” the demon said. “When I was human I couldn’t open it. ‘S a box, didn’t have a lock ‘r nothin’, jus’ a line goin’ around it that made it seem like it could open. Gave me the chills, mate. Felt like if I touched it for any longer than I did, I’d drop dead.”

It was sad to realize that Junkrat was Mako’s only lead.

“When you were human?” Mako’s thoughts whirled around in his head as he tried to connect the little information he had. “What about as a demon?”

But the demon ignored him. “What d’ya need the treasure for, eh, mate?” Junkrat leaned toward Mako again and smirked as Mako’s arm tensed under his touch. “Gotta ‘ave some idea what it is. Go on, gimme your best go!”

Mako ignored the demon just as Junkrat had done to him. Junkrat didn’t need an answer; it wouldn’t help him find the treasure faster.

“Aw, I see how it is, Roadie. ‘S just a box! A soul-killin’ box, that’s what it is.” Junkrat flopped back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Least, that’s me best guess.”

Sure it was. “Just give me your damn directions.”

Two hours or so passed in that stuffy truck full of noise. The noise faded, however, when Junkrat had dozed off with his head pressed against the passenger’s door, the wind from the open window tousling the demon’s hair. For Mako, the newfound silence was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing for obvious reasons, but a curse in that his thoughts were now far too loud in his head. Junkrat claimed he knew Mako. Mako couldn’t decide if that was good or bad on this quest to take half of the demon’s treasure as his own, but either way, the possibility of it all being a trick hung low in the air like a thick fog that hid sharp gravel or soft grass on an unknown path.

Mako looked toward the demon, sleep giving him a more normal appearance with his unnerving eyes closed. Mako hated to admit it, but for some reason, Junkrat felt like someone he could trust, if even a little. The atmosphere the demon gave off seemed to hold no aggression or deception, though perhaps that was just one of the powers a demon had.

Mako really should’ve researched more before he summoned this thing.

The thing about demons was that any information gathered about them usually came from hypotheses and the remnants of research from the dead. Though, Mako supposed that the information on demons held more facts to it than any and all information on angels, yet Mako had acquired legitimate angel blood from his…unsavory source.

Well, Mako just had to separate the truth from the bullshit. Could demons pass as humans? Debatable, but from Junkrat’s appearance, it didn’t seem likely. Were demons more similar to humans than everyone thought? Also debatable, as Junkrat seemed to feel exhaustion and hunger, as he’d complained about before passing out.

Junkrat also felt sadness.

Though one could argue that Junkrat’s emotions were a farce only there to make Mako feel sorry for him, Mako could tell false sadness from true despair. And Junkrat had a lot of it. The demon jittered and twitched, yes, which made his movements seem like they were more normal tics than anything out of anguish or paranoia, but Junkrat held a cold fear to him that couldn’t have been born from a man who hadn’t experienced death at least once.

And in his sleep, Junkrat dreamt of death. Mako heard it in his hushed whispers, almost blown away by the wind.

In a past life, perhaps his first, Mako died by disease. Radiation poisoning invaded his lungs and throat and choked him from the inside out, leaving him to suffocate.

Mako lifted his hand to rub his throat. A shock of fear burst through his chest as he thought of his inhaler in the coat he lent Junkrat, and if the inhaler was even still in the same place he expected it to be. Mako reached over to slip his hand into one of the coat’s pockets, but just as the tips of his fingers curled around the plastic of his inhaler, Junkrat awoke and flinched away.

“The fuck’re ya doin’, mate?”

Mako jerked his hand back onto the wheel and kept his gaze on the road. “Get up. We’re almost there.”

Junkrat wiped the crust from his eyes and sat straight in his seat. “Really? Where’re we? What’s it look like?”

Mako frowned. Not this again. “Shouldn’t you know?”

The demon laughed as if such a question held an obvious and straightforward answer. “Roadie, I can’t get a feel for the place when we’re goin’ so fast.” He gave Mako a sly grin, his ongoing game of withholding bits of information driving Mako mad.

No matter what the fuck that even meant, Mako slowed down anyway and turned down a dirt road, the red dust forming clouds behind his truck. They drove up to the ruins of a shack made from sheets of what once could be identified as metal and layers of red and brown rust.

“It looks like a shack,” Mako said. “That enough for you?”

“Y’see a sort o’ shed behind it?” Junkrat seemed to vibrate in the chair, his excitement and impatience threatening to burst.

Mako slowed to a stop and parked a couple of feet from the shack. “Out.”

Junkrat cackled and leapt out the window, his claws leaving light scratches on both the inside and outside of the door. He ran off, Mako left in his dust.

Mako let out a sigh, then hefted himself out as well. He walked to the front of the shack and looked around the ruins.

No one would ever live here, considering the lack of a roof and most of the front wall having been destroyed. From what Mako could see of the interior with the aid of his phone’s flashlight, a thick layer of red dust coated whatever scraps and remnants of furniture and other unidentifiable objects littered the single room.

Mako felt the urge to step inside when he heard a shriek of metal from where Junkrat had gone. Once Mako heard the metal clang onto the ground, he heard an ear-splitting cackle that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but maniacal. If Mako hadn’t known what that sound came from to begin with, the icy claws of terror would’ve sent him running back to his truck.

That didn’t mean those claws didn’t exist at all. They sure as hell existed, but Mako ignored them as they scraped across his ribcage and sent shivers up his spine. Either way, he had to see what the fuck Junkrat was up to.

The back of the shack looked pretty much the same as the front, except it had a full wall instead of half of one. Mako saw Junkrat hoist up a giant sphere of metal and yank it out of a lopsided storage space attached to the wall.

“Mako! There ya are!” Junkrat grunted and overturned the sphere, showing its hollow inside. He patted the rim with a fond smile on his face. “A beauty, eh? Made this meself a hundred or so years back! Lots o’ great explosives got their start in ‘ere.”

Junkrat turned back to the storage space and fumbled around in the darkness while Mako stared at the strange sphere thing.

A sidecar. Mako wasn’t sure where the word came from, but that thing had to be a sidecar to some ancient motorcycle. Rust crept up toward the rim of the seat from all sides, and parts of the metal had holes, dents, and scrapes that probably came from accidents, or what looked like even bullets. Any remnants of paint had been long washed off from either sun or rain, and the dulled silver of the metal glinted back at Mako in the moonlight. For a split second, Mako imagined that the front of the car had a giant, wicked grin, but then the image was gone.

“Why are we here?” Mako said to shake off the eerie image.

Junkrat let out a grunt in response. “Hid some stuff ‘ere. Gimme a sec, ya drongo.” There was more shuffling around, and Mako had to take a step back as Junkrat tossed dirt and weeds out of the storage space.

And then he tossed back a license plate that read ‘R0ADR8GE’ in deep azure font.

And, with confidence known only to Mako’s subconscious, Mako had no doubt that this was the place where radiation took a life that once was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I’ve never been to Australia and the only reference I have is the Junkertown map and the set of the movie Young Einstein pls be forgiving now and in the future


End file.
